Anemones are charming little flowers grown from a “corm,” a type of bulb that is planted in the fall to bloom in the springtime. I must admit, I have attempted to grow them many times, and failed miserably.
In the last attempt to thwart the incessant root-nibbling voles in my yard, I planted them in the safety of a shallow pot, along with some sedums. Being painfully cognizant of my past failures, I was sure to stick a plant tag in the container, so as to remind me that something was supposed to grow besides the sedum.
As expected, nothing appeared from these lovingly planted corms. Finding the pot in my stash of dormant plant pots this fall, I did notice a suspicious leaf or two growing through the sedums. “Well,” I thought, “It took 2 years for my poor grape hyacinths to bloom. Maybe there’s hope.” But I resolved never to try these difficult bulbs again.
Then the mail came. A box was addressed to my daughter, living out of town as she attends college. I let her know she had a package. “Open it!” she said.
I tore open the brown paper wrapper, and inside the box were bulbs! Seven beautiful bulbs labeled with “Frosted Nights,” a stunning purple fringed tulip. What a sweet daughter! She knows how I love purple. “Dig around more, Mom,” she said. “There should be some Omenomums in the package.” “Omenomums?” I asked, and then realized what she was saying. “Anemones?” “Yeah, that’s it!”
They are hard to pronounce, I guess. That’s why my husband and I always quote “An enemy has done this!” when we talk about them. We are merciless when it comes to our own foibles, such as “mispronOUNciation,” as we call it. The proper way to say this is “uh-NEM-oh-nee.”
“Anemone has done this,” I said seriously to my baby girl, still on the phone. I think she either ignored me because she had heard this phrase misquoted from Matthew 13:24-30 so many times, or maybe because it’s just such a bad family joke.
I thanked her profusely for the bulbs, which she had picked out on a college trip to the Netherlands earlier. Now I need to make sure I don’t kill them! The aforementioned voles have enjoyed some delicious snacks from past tulip plantings.
My past tulips have been known to bloom before the underground rodents got them, but never anemones. Not once.
Oh, boy, I’m in trouble! Baby girl has never taken a huge interest in gardening, and she had no way of knowing she picked out one thing that was hard for me to grow, and another that was pretty much impossible. It is now my duty and my mission not to let her down!
In the parable of the tares, quoted above, the “enemy” made the farmer’s job much harder by planting weeds among the good plants. Sometimes we are given a task that turns much more difficult than we had bargained for. Other times those tasks just appear, and we must be up to the challenge.
Will I be able to meet my new garden challenge of growing “amen mommies”…uh, I mean anemones? For the record, I have accomplished the challenge of pronouncing it right. I just don’t know if I can grow them.
The important thing is that I meet the challenge with genuine effort. I have been talking to people who have grown these flowers, and researching information on their culture.
Our “enemy” is Satan. In our spiritual lives, let’s take our challenges seriously.
–by Christine Berglund @ www.forthright.net